Ah yes, the Swamp of Shadows. A strange place within the Misty Forest. Altogether, the swamp was a small place in a smaller place as far as the vast Realm of Arda goes. But the Swamp of Shadows was notorious for it's illusions, inhabitants, and infamous events. I just used three 'I' words. Isn't that neat? Indeed. I could go on forever... OH! Sorry, forgot that I was narrarating here... where was I...


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The small fire in front of Erik served more the purpose of a pleasant distraction than anything else. In this accursed swamp, the firelight did little to illuminate the situation. Or warm it for that matter. Erik shivered and tightened his cloak around him. His hip still hurt from where it had been struck by a lightning bolt. That Alba fellow was volatile indeed... Erik resolved to approach him again in the near future
and not levitate him roughly ten feet into the air. Erik idly stratched the skin where the burn had been. It itched badly.

His Unseen Servant, whom he had named Figaro for no particular reason, was out collecting firewood. Silent and invisible, the servant was capable of performing mundane tasks while the master set out to more important things. Like finding a way out of here. Erik had gotten lost in here on his way to Yomenaipa. It was faster to cut through the forest than to go the whole way around it, at least by a few days. The shadows around him shifted around conspicuously. He was being wathced by a thousand eyes, and knew damn well of it too. Erik wanted to laugh about it, to shrug off the pressure that was burning at him. He decided it better to keep quite and let the fire do the burning for now. Speaking of the fire...

Erik picked up a mottled peice of wood that the servant had retreived previously. Examining it, a few insects fell off and scattered on the ground seeking shelter. The wood was a dark brown to black. It smelled horrid. Erik tossed it on the flame and watched it slowly heat, and then combust. The wood cracked in response to the flame, protesting it's unfair demise. Another noise answered the loud crack, but it did not originate from the fire at all. Erik immediately rose, and just as soon conjured his katana in his right hand. The steel attempted to reflect the firelight, but was quickly bathed in the dominant shadow. Which was ultimately no problem for Erik, as two latent abilities he had gained allowed him to survey most of the inky scenery. Infravision, and a sort of wierd ability that allowed a man to peer beyond objects in his way. Penetrating Vision. There was someone approaching. It wasn't his Unseen Servant.

The mist swirled slightly as Xoco made his way through the Swamp of Shadows. It was an odd place, this swamp. Many a mortal had entered and then never returned. Grim fates awaited the ill-prepared in this dangerous portion of the Misty Forest. The swamp gas here was thick, noxious and seemed to numb the minds of those that breathed it for too long. It created dillusions, anxiety, disorientation, driving it’s victims to the verge of insanity. Those unlucky enough to succumb to it’s effects often found themselves in even darker portions of the forest, such as the Edge of Dreams, where reality itself was twisted by the strange magic that flowed through the forest.

Xoco was tracking a smell that he had never smelled before. He often made his way through this swamp, simply to get wherever he was going faster. He did not fear it’s dark depths as did the mortals. He knew it’s passageways and dangers well enough, certainly a manageable knowledge. He had gained this knowledge from a group of shamen that he had run into on his first journey into the depths of this swamp. They had guided him through the swamp, telling him it’s secrets and dangers. He had then made off with their gold, spellbooks, and other valuables. Xoco smiled at the memory, a wry smile of cocky contention.

Finally, as the smell became stronger. He noticed it now; it was the distinct odor of burning swamp gas. He assumed that some traveler had settled down for the night, and then lit himself a campfire. It was a cold night, bitterly cold inside the dampness of the swamp. No wind blew, but the thick gas gave an even more biting chill to the air. He decided that perhaps he would make nice, if just for the evening, in order to gain himself a spot around the warmth of the fire. He didn’t mind the cold, but he didn’t enjoy it either.

As he approached, Xoco stepped on an oddly bent twig on the ground, and it sent a crack through the night air. It was probably not very loud, but in the stillness of the forest, it sounded louder than a cannon. Xoco winced at the sound; he had hoped to make a stealthy entrance, but now those hopes had vanished. Decided to abandon stealth, he simply quickened his pace and finally a campfire came into view. Along with the welcome sight of the campfire was a traveler who already had a katana in his hand. Xoco put his hands up in a gesture of goodwill.

“I have no wish to cross blades, traveler. At least not on a night such as this,” he said. He met the traveller’s eyes with his own, hoping for a non-violent reaction to his arrival.

Erik measured up the newcomer. A well built, yet almost albino in nature man seeming to be in his thirtys or so. Interesting. There was some sort of darker tone to him, and Erik found he could not look him straight in the eye for too long without feeling some amount of uneasiness. Something about this man was awry. Awfully awry, actually. Erik's nose scrunched as he thought about it. Blinking a few times, as if he was a timid rabbit deciding whether or not to flee. For now, Erik would stay. Pulling his cloak aside, revealing a simple dark brown undershirt. A leath belt graced the waistband of his pants, to which was attach a long and thin sheath for his exotic weapon. The katana was pointed at the opening, and carefully pushed in the length. The steel rung with pleasure as the sword found home. No blood today. Time to rest.

"I am Erik. Who might you be stranger?" asked the Illusionist. The sound of wood colliding with wood could be heard not a few feet behind. The noise sounded damp. Dry wood was hard to find around these parts. Erik turned around to see a fresh pile of repugnant swamp wood to burn. His unseen servant could be heard shuffling off to find more. The human picked up a peice, examined it, sneezed at the terrible rotting scent, and then through it on the flame. "This wood is nothing better than damp cow manure. I can't beleive I ended up this deep, I usually just go around the edges, ya know?"

Erik was trying to make conversation. The swamp fog absorbed his voice and did not allow it to pass beyond the makeshift camp. OF course, that was a lie. Erik always went straight through. That was the thing though, going roundabouts always got you lost in the swamp. Erik decided to be curious. Idiot. He wanted to smack himself but refrained from doing so. Better not to reveal his true motives, intentions, weaknesses, strengths, or anything else for the moment.

Xoco noticed the trademark uneasiness that he tended to strike into most mortals come over the traveler. It seemed that many mortals had a type of sixth sense about such things, and he tended to make anyone in his presence feel off-kilter slightly. It was not intentional, simply the way that mortals reacted to such dark spirits as he. It was as if they were programmed in some way to react to the presence of an evil spirit. But for now, he had no intention of killing this stranger. At least, not yet.

"I am Erik. Who might you be stranger?" asked the traveler, Erik. Xoco paused for a moment.

“I am called Xoco,” he answered. Xoco felt slightly relieved as he watched the katana make it’s way back into a simple leather sheath. Good. No blood would have to be spilt on this night. Besides, he was tired from an earlier encounter involving a shinobi warrior. He did not have the strength to fight right now, nor the desire. His typical sadistic nature had been replaced by a mellow calm brought on by exhaustion.

"This wood is nothing better than damp cow manure. I can't beleive I ended up this deep, I usually just go around the edges, ya know?" said Erik. Xoco nodded, grabbing up a piece of substantial wood from the pile and sitting upon it. He was a slight distance away from Erik, but very close to the welcome warmth of the fire. The heat felt good on such a cold night as this.

“Aye. The swamp gas had many effects, not the least of which is on the plant life. It is often unwise to travel so deeply into the forest. However, you are lucky you did not travel farther, for only two leagues further is the ridge between dreams and reality. It is an evil place, one that few enter and even fewer exit alive. It is maddening,” said Xoco. His voice was level and calm, and he stared into the fire as he spoke. His thoughts strayed slightly to his one travel into the Realm of Dreams. It was an irrational place, where the laws of nature bent and twisted and where half-real horrors awaited around every corner. Even the most capable of warriors were driven insane there. He shuddered, and it was not because of the cold.

Erik had forgotten all about the dangerous and forboding place that Xoco was now speaking of. Of course he had heard of it. In fact, it was part of his expertise. Being a historian in his spare time, and considered an expert on the Pariah, Erik would know well that Tithdaeron was one of the few people to have ventured in and back out of that strange place. And when he emerged, he was eternally different. Luckily, Erik doesn't enter the Realm of Dreams in this story...


Xoco took a larger peice of wood and used it as a seat. He then proceeded to shudder deeply after mentioning the Realm of Dreams.
Erik shuddered too. He knew full well just how horrible a place that could be. And how it was created, nobody was sure. He was tempted to chance asking one of the Godesses, but, decided not too. What had they to do with him anyway? One theory, which seemed to make the most sense, was that men's renegade dreams were caught by the magic of the forest, which was strongest at it's center. The worst dreams, and the best, mixed in an insane concoction. Usually it was the bad dreams you encountered. And the stuff of dreams was beyond most mortals.

"I was not aware that I had come that close. Thank you for the warning Xoco." replied Erik earnestly. The Illusionist looked over the newcomer again, and found himself wanting to... wanting to... do something. He couldn't think of what it was, but there was something most unusual about this man. Had he already entered the Realm of Dreams, and was currently being fooled by some apparition? It was a possibility Erik did not discard. But would he be able to detect the illusory magic? What if it was to deceptive, to powerful? Nothing seemed to be an illusion here...

Erik's eyes danced about, searching for anything of the magic image persuasion. Nothing yet... "Come around!" shouted Erik. He was trying to call over his Unseen Servant. Whether or not it heard him would be known soon. "I don't suppose you have anything good to eat? Us humans tend to eat quite a bit when cold. I haven't anything." Those simple sentences were laced with both honesty and untruth. While it was true that most humans did eat more in the cold, Erik was not hungry himself. This would also reveal more about Xoco himself. He appeared human, but was he? His response would tell Erik everything he needed to know. Or at least, his thoughts would...

"I was not aware that I had come that close. Thank you for the warning Xoco," said the stranger. Xoco nodded, signaling distantly that he welcomed the thanks. His eyes did not meet those of the human, nor did he even want them to. The fire was a contenting distraction from the eminent peril that was always lurking in a place like this. The swamp gas swirled, but it was slightly lighter around the fire. Xoco knew from past experiences that fire consumed the swamp gasses, often lightening their burden on the minds of travelers.

Xoco’s eyes turned for a moment, flicking to the side, and he found Erik was eyeing him. He turned his entire head now, meeting the man’s gaze with a look of contented ignorance on his face. One eyebrow raised, silently but sternly asking what the man was looking at. Xoco turned his head, wondering if the human was perhaps looking at something beyond the campsite. He found nothing obvious, so instead, turned his head to look once more at the warrior.

"I don't suppose you have anything good to eat? Us humans tend to eat quite a bit when cold. I haven't anything," said the warrior. Xoco shook his head, knowing that he never carried food on him. What use was food to a spirit? It was simply one more thing that he needed to carry.

“I am also without much sustenance. I seem to have run out not a fortnight ago,” he replied, looking at Erik. Xoco knew this was a lie, but he had to sound as though he had eaten all of his food. If he told this man that he had not consumed anything but ale for the past 500 years, it might provoke an unfortunately violent reaction. “The hunting is not so good in these parts. The creatures are stealthy and most are not fit for eating anyway,” he said. Xoco turned his attention back to the fire, hoping that he had sufficiently put off the man’s queries.

Erik had found what he needed to know. A gift he was priveleged to have, the gift of Telepathy, allowed Erik to pick up on the surface thoughts of others around him. Some people were disciplined enough to hide those thoughts, others weren't. It came in handy during a magic show, and became even more usefull in situations were Erik needed the truth. So, this was a thing who had not eaten for a long time. Or at least that was what he thought, Xoco had thought. The transmission, if you would call it that, was somewhat garbled. Figures were in there somewhere, but undecipherable. Exactly how long Xoco had been around, or at least without food, was unknown. "That sucks. I am really hungry. I suppose I can wait though." replied Erik finally.

Xoco had stared right at him when he informed the Illusionist of the fact that he carried no food, and that the hunting was bad around here. Erik could no longer stand to meet his gaze, if only for a brief moment. The human looked towards the fire, as it struggled to burn away at the noxious swamp wood. Erik sighed. "I can't wait around for much longer, as I really must be going. I am sure you have somewhere to be as well. Perhaps you could guide me out of the forest? I would reward you. How does it sound?"

Erik was not exactly wholehearted in making a deal with a ghost, or whatever it was. They could not be completely trusted. At least, thats what Erik was told. Nothing short of a Genie as far as the apparition department goes was ever entirely honest with their words.


**Work in Progress**

Xoco felt a familiar feeling of mental discomfort at the front of his head. A sudden pang of pain right in between his eyes, signaling that someone was trying to read his thoughts. Xoco had taught himself over the years to cloud his mind to the view of others, but it was an imperfect art and resisting telepathic abilities was a difficult business. He strained inwardly, trying not to show how hard he was concentrating on the outside. Finally, the mental onslaught abated, and Xoco was left wondering what Erik had picked up and what he hadn’t. There were no immediate hostilities, which was a good sign; instead, Erik spoke.

“How does it sound?" finished Erik, refusing to meet Xoco’s gaze. Instead, the human traveler stared into the fire. Xoco was used to humans choosing not to look him in the eye; he was aware of the his gaze’s penetrating effects. Most people gained a sense of discomfort or anxiety as they met his gaze, causing them to suddenly and indiscreetly look away at something else. Xoco shrugged this off, not really caring one way or the other. However, the prospect of a small reward for getting this human out of the forest was not a bad deal. He was tired, yes, too tired to fight, but not too tired to walk a lost traveler out of the Swamp.

“Sounds fine to me. I’ve certainly got nothing better to be doing. A reward would be very much appreciated, traveler, as I seem to be running short on coins these days,” responded Xoco, following Erik’s suit and looking back into the fire. “However, I am weary from my travels and require a spot of relaxation before we get moving.” Xoco stretched out his legs and placed his feet near the fire in a contented manner, sighing and awaiting Erik’s response.